And yet, she chose to stay. To keep me in her life, even as a friend. That, in itself, feels like a small miracle.
But then again, Maddie has always been special.
If I hadn’t come to understand, slowly, painfully, that I was also drawn to boys, I probably never would’ve let her go.
The truth is, I never felt entirely comfortable in our physical relationship. From the start, something had felt off.
I blamed nerves. Inexperience. Told myself it would pass.
And because Maddie always seemed happy, because she made me feel safe, I buried the discomfort and carried on.
The feelings I had for her were genuine. Deep. But not the kind of feelings you’re supposed to have for your partner.
Yes, we were intimate, but for me, it wasn’t about passion. It was about closeness. Safety. The moments I treasured most were the quiet ones, when we lay tangled together in silence, simply holding each other.
Coming to terms with my sexuality wasn’t some dramatic revelation.
It didn’t strike like lightning. It came slowly, like mist lifting off the surface of a lake, gradual and incomplete, until suddenly, everything was clear.
Piece by piece, I began to understand what I wanted. What I needed.
What I’d been missing, even when I didn’t know I was missing it.
And I realised that what I longed for was a different kind of closeness, something Maddie, for all her warmth and beauty, simply couldn’t give me. No matter how much I cared for her, I craved the feel of a male body pressed against mine.
A connection I had never been able to reach with her.
As painful as it was to admit, we both deserved more than half-truths.
If I’d had the courage, I would’ve told her everything.
Told her my love was real, but not the kind she needed.
Not because she wasn’t enough, she was more than enough, but because my heart had always been meant for someone else.
There was no confusion. No maybe.
It wasn’t a phase.
I wasn’t bisexual.
I was gay.
Of course, I was ashamed.
At first, I tried to push it down, to rationalise it.
I searched for answers online, watched videos I’d never admit to watching, and in them, I found a truth I could no longer deny.
But what truly changed everything was that night at the club.
We were out with friends, drinking too much, dancing under cheap strobe lights. Ian had joined our group just a few weeks earlier, but he stood out, tall, dark, blue-eyed, and entirely self-assured in a way I couldn’t even imagine.
That night, after too many Cuba Libres, we slipped away from the noise and into the shadows behind the dance floor.
He kissed me.
Roughly.
